Aftermath
by everfaraway
Summary: In the aftermath of Loki & Chitauri, as New York is trying to rebuild, Hawkeye is trying to put himself back together. The Hawk thinks he can do it alone but the more he tries, the more he realizes he needs some help. And the help is going to come from a very strange place. BlackHawk friendship. Eventual IronHawk. Surprise Pairing.
1. Chapter 1

Blood, Pity and A Short Tempered Hawk

**_Author: Yay for 3am uploads. Been involved in very interesting RP with my younger sister lately  
which involves Ironhawk, OCs, multiple crossovers, amongst other things. This is kinda based of it.  
I will not spoil anything. No OC's. Warnings for: language, blood, puke, a very pissed off Hawk, heavily  
suggestive themes (especially sexual) & nudity. I own nothing. Except Maria & Clint's little backstory. _**

It had been about five and a half days since Loki took over his mind.

Three days and two hours since Phil died (roughly) .

Three days since the battle against the Chitauri.

Two days since he built his temporary nest in Stark Tower.

A day and a half since all his memories from the time he spent as Loki's pet finally became clear.

About the same length since he's been out of his nest. Except to go throw up in the bathroom down the hall because of how sick his memories make him feel.

Three hours and fifteen minutes since Phil's funeral downtown. Which he didn't attend. But he did smoke a cigarette in memory of him. He also kept silent during the time between the texts from Tasha telling him the funeral was starting and that it had ended.

Two hours until he's supposed to take another painkiller.

Half an hour since his last dose of said painkillers had worn off.

"Agent Barton!"

He blinks and peers down from his nest. Fury is standing on the floor some ten feet below with Hill, Tasha and the rest of the so called Avengers. He has chosen this location because he could see anyone below but anyone below wouldn't see him. "Are you here to take me into custody... Director?" he asks. This is a business call, not a friendly one. Fury's use of the title "Agent" proves that. Otherwise he'd be just "Barton" since Fury doesn't use first names even with someone he's known for over fifteen years. He sticks his knife in his belt... just in case.

"No." Fury answers. There is honesty in his voice. Which is the only reason Clint leaves his gun on top of his duffle bag.

"We're here because of the council." Hill pipes up.

"Blow me Maria." he snarls. He feels like being an asshole. He hasn't been to fond of Maria Hill since she was ripped from under his wing, disappeared for three months and came back suddenly as Fury's right hand just before he got shipped off to New Mexico to guard that fucking hammer.

"Barton get down your ass down here! Now!" Fury barks. By his tone, he's not in the mood for bullshit. That make two of them.

He tosses down his repel line and slides down it to land among them. "Yes Director?" he says with plenty of venom in his voice. He's not feeling socialable. And between his injuries from the battle and Loki's... attempts to break him, he's in a good deal of pain which isn't helping his mood.

"We didn't see you at the funeral." Steve says, trying to be friendly as is his way. Clint's head swings towards him. The soldier still looks a bit tired.

"I've attended more funerals than I can count." he says. Only Tasha, whose pretty green eyes are red from tears, catches what he doesn't say. He'll go visit Phil's grave when he's ready.

"You're off the active roster." Fury tells him, as his eyes roam over the other Avengers. Stark has a glass of what smells like Scotch in hand. Clint flinches inwardly when he sees the arc reactor. It's glows the same shade of blue as the Tesseract and he wants to rip it from Tony's chest to see the glow go out. Bruce is watching him carefully, cautiously. Thor is watching his hands, no doubt remembering New Mexico.

"How long?" he asks, meeting Tasha's eyes evenly. He wants to embrace her and be strong for her because he knows she needed the reassurance that he will not abandon her. But at the moment he won't because he is barely strong enough for himself. She knows this, can see it in his eyes and she will not ask him to carry more weight on his shoulders than he can bear.

"Indefinitely. The council is not convinced that you aren't either a liability or a traitor." Hill says. He turns his gaze to her and to her credit, she does not flinch.

"Maria either shut up or get on your knees and put your mouth to a good use." he growls, narrowing his eyes. Every inch of his body throbs with every heartbeat and it fuels his foul mood even more.

"Barton!" Fury snaps as Tony takes a sip of his Scotch. Clint takes a few steps towards Maria, his left leg protesting the entire time.

"How many of the the council did you give head to huh? You sure didn't climb the ladder the old fashioned way kid. You disappeared from under my wing and then reappeared three months later as Fury's right hand. That smells like bribery to me." he growls. Yes he's a smart ass and people hate him at times but he is a top agent because he has fought his way up from the bottom. He believes in hard work and every agent he has trained has learned to follow the rule: you work hard, you go places. Bribery is a low blow to people like him and he take particularly strong offense to it.

Maria does something that no one expects in jumping on Clint. She's fast and mean which is why he had given the nickname "Hellcat" when he was training her. She knocks him off balance out of surprise alone and pulls his knife from his belt. His back hits the floor but he recovers quickly, rolling them over. His weight, about double her own, ensures she is not getting off the floor unless he allows it. He flinches when he feels warmth on his thighs. The fight, brief as it was, has reopened wounds. There is a pair of clicks nearby and Maria looks over to see that both Fury and Tasha have drawn their weapons.

"Barton." Fury warns, keeping his aim on the archer as he pulls Maria's gun from it's holster on her thigh. Maria goes still, knowing she is defeated. Clint trained her but she was never a match for him.

"He won't shoot me sir." she says. Clint is bleeding, she can tell by the scent around them and the shimmer on the fabric of his black jeans around his thighs. "Odd place to be bleeding." she hisses so only he can hear her.

"Bite me." he growls, taking his knife from her hand and setting her gun (unloaded so she can't shoot him right away), on the ground nearby. It hurts to get up so he does so with as much of his pride still intact as possible. Fury is glaring daggers at him but every other face in the hall wears anything from curiousity to concern. Slowly Clint pulls himself back up his line to his new nest and Tasha puts her gun away finally as Fury sends Maria back to the jet that is waiting on the roof.

"Is he alright?" Steve asks once Clint is out of sight.

"No." Tasha whispers. The repel line wiggles and smacks against the wall as it begins to disappear up into Clint's nest. It leaves behind a disturbing large and wet looking red streak on the wall. Fury sniffs the mark then turns his good eye up to where Clint disappeared.

"Jarvis send one of the bots up to my current location." Tony says, touching the mark on his wall. It's warm and he immediately reconizes it for what it is. "Have it bring something to clean blood of the wall." he adds, following Fury's gaze. The fact of what it is and who it belongs to disturbs and worries him... maybe more than it should.

"Agent Barton please come to the medical bay. I'd like to have a look at your injuries." Bruce calls gently. He doesn't press the issue. He knows men like Clint and he knows how stubborn they can be.

Clint strips off his jeans and tosses them into a trash bag to wash later. "Don't hold your breath Doc." he growls as his boxers join his jeans. He tosses a towel onto the floor and lays down carefully on his back. He has to wait for the bleeding to stop before he can really get cleaned up. He won't go see Banner. He won't tell anyone the worst of what Loki did to him. If anyone finds out how Loki tried to break him in the two and a half days he was controlled... they would pity him. And he hates pity as much as he hates Loki.


	2. Cigarettes, Rocky Horror & Lack of Sleep

Cigarettes, Rocky Horror and Sleep Deprivation

**_Author: I'm back! Finished a very stressful & exhausting move, found the shortest route to work & still unpacking.  
But I've found time to write. Can't even begin to say how badly I'm itching to watch dvds but my DVD player is still  
packed. Warnings: language, alcohol, cigarettes, mood swings & a very pissy hawk. I own nobody. Not even Dummy._**

Clint flinched when he felt a hand pass through his hair. The hand pulled away and he relaxed.

"You awake?" a soft voice asked as the scent of vanilla, gunpowder and leather washed over him. He smiled slightly when he placed the scent and voice to a face.

"Partially. Do we need to move?" he yawned, stretching out on the couch.

Tasha smirked. Move was their code word for time to go ready for a mission. "No just checking to see if you've been getting any sleep." she told him. She had been in the SHIELD headquarters in DC the past three weeks being debriefed... on everything. Thor, Captain America, Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, The Hulk, Clint (not that she needed that one), etc... Add scaring new recruits (and some older ones), reminding all the other handlers why nobody put Coulson had been able to reign her in and making Fury quite well aware of the fact she did not approve of Loki being returned to Asgard when he should face justice on their world to the mix... small wonder she had been gone three weeks not the two her superiors thought it would take.

"Off and on. Did you have fun scaring new recruits?" he asked, sitting up. The wounds on his shoulders and back from breaching a window without sleeves (not his best idea) had all healed. He had put back on the weight he had lost from being under Loki's control for two and a half days without being allowed to rest. All the injuries given to him by the Asgardian were healed but he still had nightmares. Nobody could make him talk about them either. He either changed the subject or walked away.

"I worked double time. Even got some of the older members. Sitwell asked that I give you his best... after he pissed his pants." she told him. Clint stared at her for a moment in surprise before he started laughing. It wasn't his usually deep, rich laughter though and Tasha found she missed that sound.

"Welcome home sir."

"Thank you Jarvis." Tony muttered.

"You look like shit man." Clint said, turning to look over the back of the couch. The billionaire's hair was disleveled like he had been pulling on it. The look of "Leave me the fuck alone" on his face didn't help.

"You probably would too if your girlfriend dumped you because and I quote: I can't deal with the thought of you possibly dieing because of the Avengers. Again." Tony grumbled.

"How is that your fault? Loki sicced the Chitauri on New York." Clint protested, getting up from the couch. He hid the shudder than went through his body when he mentioned Loki.

"I tried to tell her that." the billionaire growled, taking a drink of scotch straight from the bottle.

"Say what I can tell you're thinking Barton and I will hurt you." Tasha warned when a smirked crossed Clint's face.

"You're gonna hurt me anyways so I might as well say it." the archer chuckled.

"Woman: can't live with them..." Tony said, sliding a glass of whiskey to the other man.

"Can't live without them." Clint smirked, lifting his glass to Tony in thanks before taking a drink.

"Idiots." Tasha said, cuffing Tony on the back of the head as she walked out the door.

"Why'd she hit me and not you?" Tony complained when she was gone.

"Cuz she knows how I'd react." Clint told him. A darkness entered Clint's eyes as Tony watched. It was not survivor's guilt... no. Tony knew how that looked. This was something much deeper routed than that.

"Still having nightmares?" Tony asked, trying to draw the archer back to reality.

"Everyone know?" Clint asked, avoiding his gaze. As he spoke Tony swore his eyes went from dark blue to light gray

"Depends on who you've told. Jarvis alerted me the first night you stayed at the tower." Tony shrugged. Each of the Avengers had their own huge room and plenty of room between their room and the next person's. Of course there were plenty of gyms, shooting ranges, kitchens, living rooms, etc... They were a very loose knit group so Tony had made sure they could live together in something like peace.

"Sometimes. Just depends on the night... I guess." Clint muttered, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket. He pulled one out before offering the pack to Tony.

"Thanks." the billionaire said, surprised at the other man's comradery. He was under the impression that the archer was a loner and despised people other than Natasha and Coulson.

"Did you think I was gonna kill you as soon I could for all the hell you put us through? I'm surprised Tasha didn't murder you after that damn party of yours." Clint smirked. Antisocial he was and he enjoyed watching people tip toe around him.

"Party?" Tony asked, feigning ignorance or memory lose due to massive amounts of alcohol. Clint's eyes narrowed at him and Tony almost wanted to run. "Oh that party. Me and Rhodey fighting in my suits, one of which he still has." he quickly added, hoping the archer wouldn't kill him. "Why were you there? I thought you were in New Mexico guarding Point Break's hammer." he asked, cocking his head slightly.

"I was there for backup. Once the party got under control I left for two weeks leave. Then I got shipped off to guard Mjolnir." Clint said, exhaling. The smoke drifted lazily in front of him before the nozzle of a fire extinguisher appeared in his face. "The fuck?" he asked.

"Dummy!" Tony snapped, glaring at the machine. The machine gave a sad whine and dropped it's "head" before gliding away.

"One of your wayward pets?" Clint asked, cocking an eyebrow at the machine.

"Named for the rocks in his head." Tony muttered.

"You in no way, shape or form resemble Columbia." the archer told him.

Tony's eyes widened and he stared at the other man in shock. Clint was the last man he expected to know Rocky Horror. "I've been told I could make a decent Frank." he admitted. It was true. But it had also been at a halloween party and he had been utterly fucked up on who knew what that night.

Clint eyed the dark haired man before rolling his eyes. "Dummy." he called.

The machine chirped and swiveled to return to the archer. It chittered and bumped happily against his hip.

"Let's see if we can't make you smarter than your maker. Or at least a bit more threatening if nothing else." Clint said, turning away to leave.

"Fuck you Hawk." Tony growled.

Clint stopped and a slight shiver passed through him, making him roll his shoulders. The glare he turned on Tony had made men Thor's size piss their pants in fear. There was rage, danger and a promise of a very slow and painful death in his eyes. "You know that day Fury came by to tell me I was off active duty... I wanted to rip that reactor from your chest just to watch the glow go out. I still do. And I don't give a fuck if it kills you." the archer snarled.

**_Author: expect next chapter to have some humor. Got an idea in my head curtisy of a pic of Christian Bale from Terminator Salvation this is completely out of context._**


	3. If Found Call Tony Stark

If Found: Call Tony Stark

**_Author: I try to write funny shit & it still ends up dark. Oh well. Work had kept me very busy lately.  
Lil too tired for warnings this chapter. Read at your own risk. I own nothing & nobody. _**

**_Another language_**

Clint looked up when Dummy gave a happy beep and twittered before rolling away. Or at least tried to. The heavy chain attached to the "collar" around it's "neck" kept it from going far. It whirred sadly and dropped it's "head". "Agent Barton?" a female voice called.

"Miss Potts?" Clint assumed, looking the tall, leggy, strawberry blonde over. This was the woman dating Tony? God's gift to woman kind he was not. She could do so much better.

"Call me Pepper. I was just made aware that you "kidnapped" Dummy yesterday." she told him.

"Call me Clint. And I did not "kidnap" Dummy. I brought him down here to make him smarter than his maker. Or at least more threatening looking." Clint told her, pulling a dart from the cup on the table and throwing it.

Pepper turned to follow it's line of flight. The dart struck a dart board that rotated around the room and had Loki's picture attached. She recognized it as a survallience photo but unsure of it's origins. "I don't think Thor would approve." she commented, looking back to him.

He smirked devilishly and said, "Don't care." There was a clinking sound and he swung his gaze over Dummy who was pulling at it's chain. "Stop that!" he barked. The machine made a few soft sounds of apology and returned to it's spot in the corner. The authority in the agent's voice made the hair on the back of Pepper's neck stand on end. He was intimidating. Even more so than Thor, Natasha or even Fury.

"Why is he on a chain?" she asked, finally finding her voice.

"I've seen the havoc it can cause in Stark's lab and I don't want my shop torn apart." the archer said, flicking his steely grey gaze to her. Something metallic on the desk twitched and he returned his attention back to whatever it was he was working on. Pepper looked around his "shop" and decided it was not a shop. With two walls covered in weapons it was an armory.

Guns, bows, knives, arrows and a few items she couldn't even begin to identify were scattered across the walls and the tables in front of the walls were covered with ammunition of all shapes and sizes. She turned her attention back to the walls, continuing her examination. There was a sword or two (or five) were hung across the areas. Cocking her head, she walked over to something that seemed bizarrely out of place. A huge oriental fan, three feet across at least at it's widest point. "Do not touch that. It may be a woman's weapon but you aren't trained to handle it." Clint's voice came sharply from behind her.

"What is it?" Pepper asked, still staring at it.

"A fighting fan from North Korea. There are blades in the fin edges that will cut you open to the bone. Some designs have poison pouches in the fins though that particular one does not." he said, stepping from behind his desk and into the light a bit more. She realized now that he was shirtless and that there were three vicious looking scars above his left hip.

"Why do you have it?" she asked, forcing herself to look up at his face and not his impressive body, as scarred as it was.

"A woman tried to kill me with it. I wanted a souvenir." he told her.

Pepper's eyes widened and she all but ran out of the room. He was frightening that man.

The Next Day

"Go say hello Dummy." Clint said, unhooking the chain from the machine. He had locked himself away in his shop for two days working on Dummy. And that did include the past three hours he had spent laughing his ass off as Dummy adjusted to his new "claw".

"What the fuck did you do to Dummy?" Tony shouted, almost choking on his scotch when he saw the machine.

"I made him more intimidating than his maker." Clint said.

"What the hell is it?" Tony demanded, looking at the claw that now adorned his robot.

"Jarvis do an image search for hydrobot Terminator Salvation." Clint chuckled.

"Of course Agent Barton." the AI said.

**_"I thought I reconized that damn claw."_** Tasha muttered.

_**"Best of the series." **_he told her.

**_"You just like the fact that Schwarzenegger was nude in it... again."_** she sighed.

**_"Maybe when I was younger. Bale looks a hell of a lot better than the Governator these days."_** he chuckled.

"You are strange." she muttered, walking out.

"Jarvis pull up the second image in the second row." Clint said.

Tony examined the picture for a moment before looking down at Steve who had crouched close to Dummy to examine the claw. "Hey Cap. You might wanna step back." the billionare said, moving away.

"Why?" Steve asked.

"Cuz that claw looks an awful lot like an anal probe." Tony said.

"You're kidding." Steve said, getting to his feet with a shake of his head before he headed towards the door. His next stop was probably the gym, like always. Even he knew what an "anal probe" was and talk of it didn't interest him.

"Wait... if it is an anal probe then maybe it can remove the stick up Cap's ass. Cap! Turn around so we can give it a test run!" Tony called. But Steve was already out the door.

"Have fun with your pet Stark." Clint said, dumping Dummy's "leash" on the counter.

Tony watched the archer walk away, noting how cold he seemed to have become. Then he wondered when he had begun to notice. And for that matter... why he cared. The archer would, could kill him in a heartbeat if he wanted to. And yet... he cared about the archer's well being. Why?

Dummy bumped into his hip and he looked down. Around Dummy's "neck" was a metal band with a dog tag attached. "Dummy. If found call Tony Stark..." he whispered. The number that was on the tag was not the number to the Tower, Stark Industries or even to Pepper. "How the fuck did he get my personal number?" he growled.

"You gave it to him sir." Jarvis piped up.

"Shut up Jarvis."

**_Author: if you wanna go see the picture they are looking at google image Hydrobot Terminator Salvation. It is on a black background. I blame my wacky former room mate who responded with "It looks like anal probe." when I send him the picture & said, "I want one."_**


	4. Mesmerized

Mesmerized

**_Author: So sorry it's taken so long for me to update. I've been busy & life has been kinda crazy lately. It's still  
crazy but at least now I have time & privacy to write. R&R. I own nobody, I just enjoy playing with them._**

Tony took a drink of his scotch as he glanced up in time to see the resident archer return from outside. "You know... you can smoke in here." he said, never letting his gaze leave the other man.

"Habits die hard." Clint said quietly.

"Whiskey your poison?" Tony asked, grabbing a bottle of Jack Daniels from the counter.

"Sure." the archer whispered, taking a few careful steps towards the bar.

It had been six months since Loki had been returned to Asgard. And in that six months, Tony had learned several things about Clint Barton AKA Hawkeye (in no particular order).

1: The archer was extremely anti-social, except when it came to Black Widow.

2: He was, for reason's Tony didn't understand, very shy.

3: He had a mean streak from hell.

4: He was absolutely fucking brillant.

Not only had Clint managed to build a full functional mechanical hand from scratch and fully integrate it into Dummy's system but he apparently was also that mastermind behind all of his arrows. And that bow of his.

"So anymore clever ideas? Trick arrows? Another DNA recognition program?" Tony asked, holding out the glass of whiskey.

"How long did it take you to figure that one out?" Clint chuckled, leaning against the bar.

"Well... after I watched Thor try to flare your bow, I thought that it might be... a fingerprint ID system." Tony admitted.

"So you lifted my prints? Off what? A glass?" Clint smirked, shaking his half empty glass so the ice clinked together before taking another drink.

Tony smirked and said, "Only partials. Either way, they didn't work."

"Of course not. You got partials because of my shooting glove. Fingerprints are too easy to mimic anyways. DNA recognition system is much more effective." Clint told him.

"Care to elaborate?" Tony asked, reopening the bottle of Jack to refill the archer's glass.

"Got a laptop?" Clint asked, eyes sparkling as he produced a flash drive his pocket.

Tony stepped into the living room and picked a laptop up from the table before passing it over to the archer. "Don't need a password." Clint muttered, plugging in the flash drive. Instead of a log in screen, a black screen with the SHIELD logo appeared instead.

"I thought you were suspended indefinetly. Or whatever Fury called it." Tony said, watching as the other man logged into the system.

"Yeah well when big brother grounded me, he didn't take away my computer privileges." Clint chuckled darkly.

Tony snorted in laughter. The archer was amazingly brillant. And cocky... and amusing as fuck.

"There we go." Clint said, pulling up multiple images of his bow.

"Jarvis, pull the center image up so we can play with it." Tony said. Clint blinked in mild surprise as the image of his bow hovered in the air, now three dimensional. He set the laptop down and slowly walked over to the hologram, cautious but curious. Slowly he grabbed for it and the hologram settled into his hands as if it wasn't a hologram at all. He turned the hologram over in his hands, orienting himself with it.

"Okay... let's see. The hand grip houses multiple pressure sensors... which trigger these tiny needles when they pick up the exact amount and distribution of the pressure. The needles then immediately pierce the skin of my fingers or palm and take a DNA sample." Clint said, picking the hologram apart to reveal the sensors and needles for Tony to see.

"And there's no delay because...?" Tony asked as he looked the intricate system over. It wasn't often he was curious but now... he was. Actually curious didn't even begin to describe what he was right now.

"The program only has one DNA strand to match the samples to. Take about a second to match and another to process the information so that locks are released. Then it flares and the limbs lock into place." Clint told him, glancing over his shoulders. The billionare's dark eyes moved from the hologram to him and the way he focused on him... made him a bit nervous.

"You are absolutely fucking brillant." Tony whispered, watching as the archer's eyes swirled from blue to grey and then settle somewhere between the two. Clint inhaled sharply. He got complicated on his aim, his amazing eyesight, his ability to kill but not his ideas or his inventions. His bow, his quiver with the rotating bottom and all of his "trick" arrows... those all came out of his brain. All his ideas made real.

"Excuse me sir?"

"Go away Jarvis." Tony said, not taking his eyes off of Clint.

"Agent Romanoff is on her way to your location." the AI piped up.

Tony cursed softly as Clint stepped away to pull the flash drive from the laptop, secreting it away just as the door opened. The holograms disappeared the moment the flash drive was unplugged.

"Clint." Tasha said, holding up a large manilla envelope.

"What the hell is that?" he asked, eyeing it. His gut told him what it should be.


	5. 100 Percent Off The Radar

100% Off The Radar

**_Author: I know I was evil for leaving the cliff hanger like I did last chapter. Contains sensative material & a rather  
_****_vulnerable Tasha. I own nothing except Caleb Jackson. Excuse my lack of Russian. Used internet for translation._**

**_Another language  
_**_Thoughts_

Natasha smoothed down the hem of her dress as the passenger door of the Jaguar opened for her. She smiled and took the hand of the young valet who stood there. "Thank you." she purred, making a rather leggy exit.

"Have a good night Ma'am." the valet said softly, blushing brightly. He was young, probably no older than she was.

Tasha smiled as she took the second hand being offered to her. This one was much more familiar. "**_You look absolutely stunning_**." came a warm and heavily accented voice as the gentleman kissed her hand. The accent (Romanian) was fake but there was no mistaking the honesty in his voice.

"**_Thank you love_**." she cooed, letting her own accent thicken. She had chosen an outfit that would attract attention tonight: a low cut and backless hunter green dress that barely touched her knees. The color would make her hair seem redder (she had left it it's natural color for the night) and her eyes greener. Her companion had helped her pick it out because (as he had said): "Most men love a woman who looks poured into the dress she's wearing. I know I do." She had finished the outfit with a pair of three inch gold heels. Factor in her long legs (another reason for the knee length dress) and ample cleavage... it would be safe to assume she would be the most beautiful woman there tonight.

Clint smiled as Tasha released his hand and slid her arm into his. Normally he would have just put an arm around her waist and walked her in as is. But he had to be a good boy and remember his manners tonight.

Damn formalities.

"**_You should wear a suit more often_**." Tasha commented softly. The Armani was soft against her cheek, arm and fingers. The suit was loose on him, hiding his well muscled arms, back and abdomen... hid them from everyone but her.

"**_I would rather be up on the roof. This place has a massive skylight_**." he muttered.

She smiled and looked at him. His eyes were hidden behind a lightly tinted pair of sunglasses (they would lie and say his eyes were extremely light sensative). The gel he used to keep his hair slightly spiked had darkened it just a little bit. He was uneasy; she could tell by how tense he was. "**_You'll survive_**." she smiled, planting a kiss on his cheek.

"**_Let's go. Sooner we get this done, the better_**." Clint sighed.

As they walked up the stairs to the door of the mansion, he straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin. He was supposed to be a very important man tonight and for this job to go over perfectly, he had the play the role to a T. Even if he hated it

"Wine sir? Ma'am?" a waiter asked as the doors shut behind them. Clint regarded the waiter briefly as Natasha took a glass of white wine. She took a sniff of it, testing for any sort of poison or paralyzing chemical. With a blink she told him it was safe and he took a glass of red, before he stepped back against the wall. He repeated the process himself, not because he didn't trust her but because he knew poisons and other chemicals better than she did. He hadn't lived as long as he had with his resume on luck alone. Carefully he took a sip of the wine and tasted nothing.

"**_I wouldn't suggest drinking anything else tonight. Even if there is anything in the wine, a sip or two won't kill us. Play it like this hostile territory_**." he told her, meeting her eyes briefly then regarding the party goers around them with disdain. He hated parties like this: full of people drunk off too much money and the sense of power that came with it. If they wanted to see real power, he decided, he'd introduce them to Thor and his hammer.

"**_What are you thinking_**?" Tasha asked, noting the devious grin that had spread across his face.

"**_Just that maybe I should introduce Thor and Mjolnir to all these power and money drunk people_**." Clint smirked, slipping a mint into his mouth. A glass of whiskey or vodka would help wash away the taste of the wine. Preferably after some mouthwash.

Though he highly doubted he'd find any here.

"**_I'm going to go mingle. Behave_**." Tasha smiled, slipping a lip stick tube into her dress before sautering off.

Tasha knew just how many people were staring at her as she made her way through the crowd. But the only pair of eyes she cared about were blue-grey and hidden behind sunglasses. Without her to draw attention to him he could remain unnoticed by most of the party goers so he could keep an eye on her.

She'd make it up him later, especially since he really hated parties. But right now: she had the mark in her sights.

Caleb Jackson.

Fifty four years old.

Oxford Grad.

Spent quite a bit of time traveling overseas on business. Business, as it turned out, was heading one of the biggest human trafficing rings in the world. It brought thousands of foreign girls into the US alone every month to be used as slaves and God knew what else. Including some from her own Mother Russia.

Unfortunately because of his contacts in Customs, FBI and border patrol, he had managed to get away with it so far.

"I've heard people talking about the stunning red head who made her way into my party." Jackson smiled as she approached. His smile was lecherous... too lecherous for Tasha's liking. She had a feeling he'd love to keep her as his own personal sex slave. It made her dangerously uneasy.

"_Breathe Natalia. Clint is close by to come bail you out if you need it. And he'll know when. Just remember the job_." she thought, dropping her gaze in what the man would take as shyness.

"It couldn't have been me sir. I'm no great beauty." she blushed.

"Oh but you are my dear." Jackson purred, taking a few steps towards her, "You are extremely beautiful." His hand slid down her back, over her ass and his fingers slowly began to gather the material, creeping the hemline up.

She inhaled sharply. He'd be dead before dawn. But now... now she wanted to torture him for putting his hands on her.

"Love?"

Perfect timing. As always. And she had never been more grateful that he was near.

"I was just speaking with our gracious host darling." she told him, stepping away from Jackson. The bastard's hand promptly dropped from her dress.

"Unfortunately we must leave. Business has gone awry in Singapore. I'm afraid it's time to go." Clint said.

"I can assure you that if you were leave her with me, she would be quite safe." Jackson smirked, still eyeing her.

"Unfortunately sir I'm disinclined to do that. She's very important to me and I insist on having her companionship when I travel." Clint told him, sliding an arm around her waist. He could tell how much Jackson's simple act had frightened her, even though she hid it quite well. She turned her head slightly away from the mark and pretended to take a sip of her wine. Instead she bit down on tiny pouch that she had kept under her tongue and let it's contents leak into the wine. Once the pouch was empty, she faked a series of coughs. A waiter turned towards them and Clint grabbed a napkin, handing it to her. "I did warn you to not have very much wine." Clint chided her gently as she spat the pouch into the napkin.

"Such a shame. She'd make a lovely addition to my... collection." Jackson commented as they turned away.

Quick as a cat, Tasha turned around and tossed what was left of the white wine in her glass in his face. The poison would take effect in a few hours time. But not nearly soon enough for her liking.

"Enough." Clint growled, grabbing her roughly by the arm. He understood her fury all too well. But this was not the time or place.

"**_I want him dead_**." Tasha snapped as soon as they were out of the mansion.

"**_And he will be. But it would be suicide to try to kill him with a knife, gun or arrows here_**." he reminded her, motioning for the valet to bring the jaguar around for them.

She made a sound like an angry cat and wrapped her arms around herself. Clint slipped out of the Armani jacket and slid it around her slender shoulders. "Not cold." she muttered.

"Maybe not but you are shaking." he told her.

"Is everything alright sir?" the valet asked, the same one who had greeted them.

Clint opened the door for Tasha, pulled a couple of hundreds from his pocket, handed them to the valet and said, "You never saw us."

"Saw who?" the valet asked, pocketing the hundreds.

"Tasha talk to me." Clint said after a few minutes of driving.

"**_Vodka. Lots of vodka_**." she whispered.

"What else do you need?" he asked, glancing at her.

"**_Chocolate. Ice cream_**." she muttered.

"Movies?" he suggested.

She nodded as he pulled into the parking lot of a grocery store. "Movies, ice cream, chocolate and vodka. What else?" he asked, parking the Jag.

"**_Don't take long_**?" she begged.

"I won't. Lock the doors and change clothes if you want. Our bags are in the back seat under a blanket." he told her, squeezing her hand.

Fifteen minutes later, he opened the car door and passed the bag to Natasha. Two bottles of some of the best vodka the store had, a pint of her favorite ice cream, Ghirardelli chocolate and... "You bought me a stuffed bunny." Tasha whispered, pulling the floppy eared stuffed animal from the bag.

"How do you say bunny in Russian?" Clint asked.

"**_Zajchik_**. Though I like the japanese word for it. And you bought Anastasia?" she said softly, pulling the DVD out the bag.

"I thought you might like them both." he told her.

Tasha dropped the DVD back in the bag and held the bunny to her chest. "You're not coming back to the Tower tonight." It was not a question.

"You know I can't." he sighed, squeezing her hand gently.

*The Next Morning*

"Clint?" Tasha whispered, nudging him in the shoulder.

"Thanks." he yawned, sitting up to take the cup of coffee from her. He had only gotten back within the last hour or so from tieing up loose ends: making phone calls, paying off some people and threatening others. Whatever it took to destroy their paper trail and make sure that nothing could lead this back to them.

They didn't have any form of immunity from laws any more.

And if anyone knew how to live 100% off the radar: it was Clint.


	6. You're Supposed To Be Dead

You're Supposed to Be Dead

**_Author: something very brief that came to me when I was re-reading the Avenger's rp that somewhat inspired this story.  
_**_I own nobody. Nobody at all. Yes I love cliffhangers. No I'm not killing Tony._

_Tony's thoughts_

"Ow." Tony whispered, glancing at his reflection in the window. The arc reactor flickered dimly and another wave of pain shot through his heart. "Fuck." he growled, leaning against the back of the couch.

"Mr. Stark?" Steve asked from where he sat in a chair nearby.

"Hey Cap... call an ambulance would you?" Tony whispered, gasping sharply.

Steve grabbed his phone from his pocket and fumbling with it for a moment to unlock it. Why anybody ever thought of locking phones he didn't know, he decided as he dialed 911.

"Stark?" Thor asked, grabbing Tony before he could collapse on the floor. The Asgardian didn't understand what could be ailing his friend, only that it was causing him a great deal of pain.

"Cap... ambulance... soon." the billionare whimpered, trying to grab ahold of Thor's arm... cloak... anything to keep himself on his feet. But his fingers wouldn't respond to his mind's orders to close... they were too numb already.

"Jarvis! Find Dr. Banner, Ms. Romanoff and Agent Barton! Call..." Steve shouted, hanging up his phone as Tony's eyes slid shut. He didn't get to hear who the soldier was telling Jarvis to call.

"Tony? Tony!"

_"Mom?" _

"Tony! Wake up!"

_"I am awake."_

"Stark, you dumbass wake up."

_"Hey... I happen to have an IQ of..."_

"You just electrocuted him! With an arrrow!" Pepper shouted at Clint as the heart monitor began to beep regularly again.

"I think he'd rather be alive with an arrow wound than dead." Tasha said, her nose crinkling as the smell of rubbing alcohol flooding the room.

"I was talking to your boyfriend." Pepper told her.

"Excuse me?" Clint asked, looking over his shoulder at Pepper with a cocked eyebrow. Tasha shook her head at the other woman.

"So Spider Lady and Bird Man aren't dating?"

"Tony." Pepper sobbed, hugging him tightly.

"Missed you too Pep." Tony chuckled.

"Welcome back to the world of the living." Dr. Banner smirked as he threaded a needle.

"What happened to that ambulance Cap?" Tony asked, looking past Pepper to Steve.

"Lady Pepper sent it away." Thor said.

"I doubted many regular doctors would be able to deal with your arc reactor or the shrapnel in your heart." Pepper told him.

"Who stabbed me?" Tony demanded, jerking attention down to his chest to see exactly what Banner was doing with that needle.

"You're welcome." Clint said, putting the arrow he had been cleaning back in his quiver.

"How many volts was that by the way?" Banner asked, not looking up from the wound his was stitching up.

"I set it to 500. It'll have 2000 volts at full power." the archer told him

"You stabbed me with an arrow? That send 500 volts through me?" Tony asked, trying not to flinching away from the needle piercing his flesh.

"Just needed to restart the arc reactor, which would channel the electricity to the metal shards in your heart. Which is actually what restarted your heart." Clint smirked, leaning against the wall.

Tony stared at Clint in awe. "You are..." he began. It wasn't often he was at a loss for words. But the archer was becoming very good at leaving him speechless.

"Agent Barton is one of the most brilliant minds in SHIELD."

Clint's head swung towards the door and he stood perfectly still, hand on the knife strapped to his thigh. Thor and Steve both stared, not quite believing what they were seeing. Dr. Banner blinked at the man in the doorway before returning his attention to Tony. Both Pepper and Tasha gasped when they reconized the man standing before them all. But none of them said a word.

Tony however smirked. He figured something like this would happen with SHIELD involved.

"You're supposed to be dead... Agent."


	7. Under The Wing of A Hawk

Under The Wing of A Hawk

_**Author: So I changed my mind about having a BlackHawk romance. Decided to toy with another pairing I've never  
**__**used before. TashaXCoulson. Title inspired by song "On The Wings of An Angel". I own nothing.**_

_**Another language**  
_

"I suppose we're both very lucky then. Especially given the severity of my injuries and that you've been living on borrowed time for quite a while Mr. Stark."

"Phil." Pepper squeaked, going over to gingerly hug him. His left arm was in a sling under his jacket and he looked worn out. "What happened to you? We thought you were dead." she whispered.

"I was. Fury had the medics put me on life support. They stitched up my injuries, stopped the internal bleeding and gave me blood tranfusions. After a while my body started healing and about two weeks ago I came out of the coma." Phil told her.

"Will you heal fully Son of Coul?" Thor asked.

"Hard to say." he admitted, forcing a weak smile.

"We're glad to have you back Agent Coulson." Steve said, stepping forward to shake his hand.

"Thank you Captain Rogers. And it's just Coulson now. Or Phil. The council has placed me on indefinite medical leave." he told him, taking the soldier's hand.

"How bad were your injuries? They wouldn't tell me..." Clint asked, looking his former handler over. Phil had never looked this ragged in all the years they had known each other.

"A bunch of broken ribs, chipped sternum, pierced lung. Lots of muscle and nerve damage." Coulson said, cringing as a spasm went through his shoulder and arm. The nerve and muscle damage might never fully heal, which meant that his left arm and shoulder would probably never be 100 percent again.

Clint lowered his gaze. Nothing that came to his mind would make up for what Loki had done. No amount of apologies could change anything that had happened. Only time could heal the wounds Loki had inflicted on them all.

"Don't do that to yourself Clint." Tasha whispered, touching his arm gently. He glanced at her and saw that even as she spoke to him, she was staring at Phil.

"Natalia." Phil said gently.

She closed the difference between them, hugging him gently. His left arm was trapped between them but it didn't hurt because she didn't press against him, even though she wanted to. "**_I thought you were lost to us... to me._**" she whispered against his neck as his right arm slid around her waist.

"**_You know I'd walk through hell and high water to get back to you._**" he sighed, leaning against her a bit.

"**_You don't have to look out for us anymore._**" Clint told him quietly. Phil glanced at him briefly over Tasha's shoulder before burying his nose in her hair. It had been six months since they had seen each other... six months far too long and Clint was not about to deny them the time together.

"So Spider Lady and Agent are dating?" Tony asked, looking at Clint.

"Yeah. But it's complicated." the archer said.

"Isn't it always?" Banner chuckled as he went to wash his hands.

"It was complicated in my time. It's still complicated now." Steve agreed.

"**_Would you like to tell them?_**" Tasha asked Phil.

"**_Not now. I want to sleep in a real bed. I spent the past five and a half months in a hospital bed. And I had to go to two different SHIELD bases for medical exams._**" Phil groaned. He'd been poked, prodded, had blood drawn, had lights shined in his eyes, etc... Now all he wanted was rest.

"**_Got any luggage with you?_**" Clint asked.

"**_Hill going to send everything they have in storage over with a junior agent._**" Phil told him.

Clint pulled out his cell phone and dialed Maria's number.

"This is private and secret number Barton." Maria Hill growled when she answered.

"Consider me a liaison. Have your junior agent call me when he or she gets here with Phil's stuff." Clint told her.

"Why?" Hill asked.

"Two reasons. One is that he's been to two seperate SHIELD bases for medical exams in one day. The second is that he is under my wing." Clint said.

"And why shouldn't we contact Agent Romanoff when the agent arrives with his things?" Maria asked.

"Because she will be with Phil and probably want to kill anyone who disturbs them. And she is also under my wing." he told her before hanging up.

"So what's under your wing mean?" Tony yawned.

"It means that we are under his protection and care." Tasha said, wrapping an arm gently around Phil's uninjuried shoulder.

"Go get some sleep." Clint told them, fiddling with his phone.

"You too." Banner told Tony. Steve and Thor both took that as their cue to leave the room.

"Hey... bird... Clint?" Tony yawned, blinking to try to keep himself awake. Unfortunately it wasn't working.

"What Stark?" Clint asked, still messing with his phone.

"Any chance... you could take me under... my wing?" Tony muttered as he drifted off.

Clint looked over his shoulder at the billionare, who had just passed out. "You're fucking crazy Stark." he muttered, shaking his head.

"Jury's out." Banner smirked.


	8. We're Just A Bit More Broken

We're Just a Bit More Broken

**_Author: Can't even begin to explain how much this chapter changed from the physical copy to this one. So much extra stuff  
but totally worth it. Writing these three together is actually alot of fun. They are very interesting personalities & it's a challenge to  
_****_figure _****_out _****_just how they fit together best. CoulsonXTasha, ClintXCoulson (bromance) TashaXCoulsonXClint (family). Enjoy folks._**

"It's not much." Tasha whispered as she opened her bedroom door to let Phil in.

"But's it's always just enough right?" he teased.

Tasha laughed softly and locked the door behind them. Phil didn't turn to try and catch sight of the lock code. He trusted Tasha enough to not really care. Instead he glanced around the room and saw that there really wasn't much to it. A bed for her to sleep, a bathroom (which probably contained just the bare necessities), a closest (which would have spare uniforms, civilian clothes and "costumes" for missions). The only real signs that the room was hers were the guns and ammunition on the table near the bed and the framed pictures on the small bedside table. Photos from through out the years... snapshots of their years together. First just the two of them and then the three of them.

Tasha in sparkly silver dress (some winter ball in Monte Carlo).

Tasha and him kissing on a hotel balcony in Paris.

Clint, shortly after he joined their little family, sitting on his motorcycle shortly after returning from having stormed off during a fit of insubordination. (There were alot of those then)

Tasha teaching Clint how to waltz (the poor archer never knew that was coming).

The three of them sitting on a ratty couch in Clint's old loft in Portland, talking and laughing as if they didn't have a care in the world.

And one of him stretched out in a hammock asleep... somewhere.

"Does the sling need to stay on?" Tasha whispered from behind him, gently reaching up to slid his jacket away from his injuried shoulder. She had made sure to make her presence known when she had slipped up behind him. He was injuried but he had trained her, so there were a few tricks of his that he hadn't taught her.

"For right now. Unless I go to bed or clean up. Both of which I should do." he told her, settling on the edge of her bed. He glanced down at the silky fabric under his hand and picked up the edge of it, letting the black satin slide over his fingers. "Are these the sheets I got you for your birthday?" he smiled.

"Clint laughed when he came in after we moved into the Tower and saw me replacing the sheets that were on the bed with these." she chuckled, sliding onto the bed behind him. She rested her chin on his right shoulder, slid her right arm around his waist and gently slid her left hand over his, intertwining their fingers.

"I bet he did. How has he been? How have you been?" Phil asked her, turning his head to kiss her cheek.

"He took losing you... thinking we had lost you hard. It was all I could do to keep him from becoming... like he was when we met him." Tasha whispered. Violent. Reclusive. Defiant. Impulsive. Terrifying and terrified at the same time. It had taken so many years of teaching Clint to trust, coaxing the horrors of his past from him, smoothing over the scars and holding him during and after night terrors to get him to the point he was at prior to Loki.

"I never meant for you to have to look after him... to face all of that alone. I'm sorry 'Talia." he whispered.

"We've taken care of each other. It's the only way we knew to make our way after Loki." Tasha admitted, sliding her right hand slowly under the hem of his shirt. The muscles of his abdomen twitched under her fingertips.

"Can we pick up where we left off?" Phil sighed. He hadn't realized until this very moment just how much he had missed her touch... her warmth... everything about her.

"Of course. We're just a bit more broken now." she assured him gently.

"Damn it... I'm so grateful Fury wanted to try to bring me back. Wherever I was... it was awful. I wanted to come back to you... I couldn't stand not being here." Phil admitted softly, squeezing her hand tightly.

"How did the medics... you were basicly dead for six months...?" Tasha asked, unsure how to phrase her question. Imagining the man who was her friend, lover, handler and confidant in a hospital room on life support was terrifying.

Phil turned his head and showered Tasha's face with kisses. "Shh... shh... I'm alive because of your blood. The transfusions the medics gave me were from you. Fury hoped that the small amounts of KGB's version of the Super Soldier Serum would heal me. it did.. is.. but slowly." he told her SHIELD had a policy that said agents had to donate blood which would be stored just in case they came in with an extremely severe injury. Tasha, luckily, had type O blood so her blood could be used with anyone. Fury had taken a risk telling the medics to use her blood for his transfusions because they didn't know what kind of problems (if any) the KGB's Serum would cause.

Three quick knocks on the door made Tasha straighten up. Only one person ever came knocking on her door. "It's Clint. Do you mind if he comes in?" she mouthed to Phil.

"No it's fine." he mouthed.

"Clint would you like to come in?" Tasha called, sliding off the bed.

There was a moment of silence then the archer said, "Yeah.. sure."

"You didn't sound so sure." Tasha observed when she opened the door.

"I didn't want to interrupt you two." Clint said, still just outside the door.

"Clint get in here." Phil told him.

"Whatever you say sir." the archer chuckled. He went straight to the bed where Phil sat and crouched down in front of him. The years they had known each other had left Clint with a massive amount of respect for his handler. They were also extremely close friends whose friendship bordered on bromance. Natasha often got a laugh out of the fact that they (her boys) knew what that term meant. Of course they blamed her for introducing them to the word.

"Are you alright?" Phil asked, gently messing up Clint's hair.

"Yeah... I guess... I thought we had fucking lost you." the archer whispered, lowering his eyes.

"Look at me Clint." Phil told him. It wasn't an order but none the less... Clint instinctively obeyed. His eyes were a swirl of different shades of blue: cobalt, ocean and multiple other shades neither Phil or Tasha had names for. "I'm not going anywhere if I can help it. Do you understand?" Phil said.

"Yes sir." Clint whispered, blinking slowly.

"Why don't you dig out a change of clothes from his bag and find my first aid kit? I'm gonna help him clean up a bit then we can have a look at his injuries." Tasha said, reaching over to gently stroke the archer's cheek.

Clint nodded slowly and got to his feet as Tasha slid off the bed. Phil followed her up and she slid an arm around his waist as they headed into the bathroom. The tidal wave of emotions and terror that had threatened to drown him for the past six months finally felt manageable.

**_Author: Dedicated to everyone who knows how it feels to almost drown under the weight of your own terror & dedicated to those who have helped us stay afloat.  
_****_Also a shout out to my fellow Avenger's lover Halima. :)_**


End file.
